


In my heart, I can live

by Swordsandthings



Category: 1917 (Movie 2019)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, M/M, Possible tw: drinking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-08
Updated: 2020-06-08
Packaged: 2021-03-04 05:01:06
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,320
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24597919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Swordsandthings/pseuds/Swordsandthings
Summary: Charles Cooke has been fantasizing about leaving his abusive household for the longest time. He had spent years planning it, how perfect it would be. He hopes that when he finally moves into a healthier place he'll finally get to heal and perhaps learn one or two things about love.a/n: I'll come back to this around August bc academic responsibility
Relationships: Private Cooke/Private Rossi (1917)
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	In my heart, I can live

**Author's Note:**

> Me: *has several confusing feelings and problems ™*  
> Cooke: *exists"  
> Me: "hi child! I'm going to project into you!!"
> 
> Anyway I don't know if at certain times this fic will be sorta of sad? But I pinky promise that it will have lots of happy parts too!!
> 
> And uhmm I hope it's ok that Im using the names I've seen some of the fandom use for Cooke and Rossi! If it's not, just tell me and I'll change!

Since a young age Charles had felt an itch to be outside the four walls of his house. His father was, at several times, an unkind man. It was common for Charles to find his mother with a bruise or two. She spoke about her wish to leave. Yet she didn’t do it because there was no way for her to have enough money for her son too, so she stayed and Cooke fought hard to leave.

  
When Charles had received the acceptance letter from uni he had been ecstatic, close to crying even. Immediately, he had packed his bags in a hurry to leave. 

  
Cooke hadn’t expected to be accepted. He had never been an extraordinary student. For him, the grading system schools used were a big bag of bull. And more often than not, he got into trouble. Charles had never been the coolest kid and perhaps that's what had lead him to fight with some, he was just simply tired of all the name calling. Everyone said he was the poor kid, the dumb kid, among other things.

At the end of the day, Charle's leave had never been fully planned. Some emails had been traded with a landlord. The man had seemed kind and as soon as Charles had gotten the news, he had contacted the man again, hoping there was still an opening in the flat he was renting.

  
The man invited him for a dinner. One day, Charles took the only bus that ever stopped in his village and left. Part of him was afraid, almost certain that he would probably end up in the streets, homeless. His grades would then decline and he'd get fired from the job he'd managed to get, like that he'd loose all the money to pay his studies and he’d end up coming back home. 

The landlord's house was easy to find. Mr Smith was quite tall and Charles couldn't help but feel a bit intimidated by the man in the beginning. He quickly figured that he obviously wished him no harm.

  
“Took you a while to confirm your stay. You’ll be sharing your room with James. He’s a nice lad. I heard you have nowhere to stay, you can come in early. I won’t ask for more money but you’ll also deal with the boys' mess, I told them to clean up a bit for your arrival, they’re definitely not expecting you to come this soon.”

  
How the apartment was messy made no sense in Cooke’s mind. He couldn’t understand how people that only rented it for classes time would get it dirty. Unless they had no home they could go back to, sorta like him.

* * *

  
The first time Cooke entered the flat, he felt a bit overwhelmed. The living room was littered with flip flops, dirty tissues and discarded juice boxes. There were two man playing a videogame in the TV, they turned around to greet Cooke. It all looked so lively, as if it would be impossible for Cooke to cram himself in.

  
The kitchen wasn’t as messy, the only thing that stood out, was the fridge, filled with notes in the front.

  
His actual bedroom, was tidy. His roommate probably had bothered to clean. There was a large window that made the entire room look cozy. Still, it was a bit odd to look at one side and see the bed made with what seemed a handmade blanket, and to see the nightstand have a mug and a book on top as well as a pair of glasses. And to have the other side of the room completely empty. Charles dropped his bag besides his bed but that wasn't enough to make a change. 

For lack of a better task, Cooke ended in the kitchen, cleaning the plates that were in the sink.

  
“Oh! You’re cleaning the dishes, my god, I could kiss you right now.”

  
“Jesus Parry, at least learn his name first!”

Charles smiled awardly at his new roommates as he kept playing with the bubbles that had formed amidst the plates.

* * *

The so called James he would be sharing his bedroom with, was nice, indeed. He was kind and he showed Cooke the fastest routes to get to uni or other important places. Sometimes, he offered to show Charles the places he liked, unfortunately, he wasn't brave enough to say yes.

  
The only problem with James was that he was handsome. The kind that made Charles have the sort of thoughts his family told him not to. The kind that would have half of the village looking at him as if he was infested with a disease.

  
Even mundane things. Like one of the earlier afternoons, made him feel some sort of high. James was laying down on the plush carpet of their bedroom. Soft hair splayed, the sun, shinning on it. The hair looked red and _oh_ so soft. And James was only playing a game in an old Nintendo. Some socks that seemed to be handmade on his feet, even if it was way too hot for it. 

Charles wanted to lay down with him, play videogames together. Feel the softness of his hair and skin.

  
He had a scar on his face. Cooke tried to figure out how he might have gotten it. It’s not like he actually asked James about it.

One afternoon they were in a sorta of party, it was more of a gathering of people that Cooke didn’t know. At a certain point, a girl, that was flirting with Rossi asked him about the scar.

  
“I was caterer for a while. Once I had to cut so many lettuces that I fell asleep on the spot and my face got pressed against the knife. You know when you’re doing a paper and you fall asleep on the keyboard, and when you wake up you see a big line of letters. Well that’s what it felt like."

  
Malky laughed lowly besides Charles. When the two of them got away, Malky explained, “He always tells something different. No one actually knows how he got the scar.”

  
For the following days, Charles made stories of his own about the scar. It's not like he had any other thing to do. He mostly stayed in his bedroom, waiting for a response from the local arts store. A while ago he had gone to an interview, in hopes that the place would grant him some sort of discount in the products if he were a worker. Charles was fine with staying in his bedroom, though one afternoon James broke away that crystal jar he had put himself into.

James was on his bed, doing something in his computer when he suddenly spoke, "I never asked you, what are you studying?"

  
“Visual arts," Charles felt his cheeks slightly heat up. So far everyone back home had said it was shit. "You?”

  
“History. But I’m thinking of changing course though.”

  
“You're a second year, right? You’re already halfway through, might as well just keep going.”

  
“Yeah, I guess so. It’s not like I’m fully sure of what I want to do anyway. “

  
They stayed quiet for a while.

  
“Were gonna watch a movie in the living room. You can join if you want," And for the first time, Charles did.

* * *

  
Classes started and pretty much every other day there would be someone to walk with Cooke and guide him. One afternoon after his class had finished he left the classroom to find Parry in the hallway.

  
They walked together, making small chat. When they were in the tube Parry informed Charles that he had a little detour to make. And it’s not like Charles was in a big mood to go back to their flat.

  
Parry’s goal was to visit a friend. He lived in a slightly old building and the decoration of his house looked to be a mix of several tastes the man had accumulated with years.

  
“And who’s this?” The man asked Parry as he opened the door of his flat.

  
“He’s my mate, Charles,” Then he looked at Charles gestured to the man “and he’s Leslie."

  
“You're not a snitch? Are you, Charles?” Leslie, was now touching a box.

  
“What? No”

  
“Good,” Leslie took several joints from the box and put them in a paper bag, giving it to parry.

  
“Thanks.” Parry payed

  
They stayed for a while. Leslie offered them beer and they got to sit down on his, probably second hand, couch. Charles looked around the room while the others chatted. Almost every wall was covered in paintings, most looked unfinished yet it was as if that was the state they were supposed to be in. Charles couldn’t help but feel self conscious about his art. In the end of the day it’s not like he was extremely ambitious he just wanted to work for a company and make the design for their products, that is, if his math and geometry knowledge was enough.

* * *

  
By the end of the first week, Charles was overwhelmed with feelings. Classes were starting to get real, drifting from the greetings and getting to know each other. And as that comfort drifted, his insecurities took their now free space. 

  
There was a small patch of grass near his flat. Probably the bathroom for many animals. But Cooke had seemed some people there, having lunch or simply chatting, so he hoped it was okay for him to sit there too. He still checked when he went there. He found mostly cigarette butts on the grass.

  
Cooke liked to stay outside. Have the sun kiss his skin. The closest thing he had to the body heat no one gave him, it felt as if someone was embracing him. He barely remembered ever having someone hug him. His father and most people he knew, said men didn’t need hugs. Just like everyone said it was wrong to cry in public.

  
But it was at moments like those that he felt the need to cry and maybe bang his head against a wall. Feelings were complicated and something Cooke knew little about.

The black oversized jumper he was wearing was long enough to cover his hands. He lay on the grass like that. He put on his headphones, playing his favourite tunes. It was peaceful and freeing to a certain point, to see a square of the sky with passing clouds.

  
All the music that he was playing made it almost impossible to hear the foot steps that got closer. Charles, that meanwhile had decided to close his eyes, opened them to see James standing above him. He was holding two bottles of apple cider. Charles stretched his arm, accepting the drink. 

  
James sad down besides him and Cooke was once again blessed by the sight of James hair glowing with the sunlight. 

  
“What do you think so far?”

  
“About what?”

  
“Everything.”

  
“Its fine, I guess. Though I have this roommate… he’s a pain in the ass.” Charles was smiling as he said the last part and soon James was mirroring it too.

  
“Yeah? I got a roommate too. He’s always leaving his stinky clothes everywhere.”

  
“Am I though?”

  
James smiled, “I don’t mind it. Kinda used to it actually. I used to live with my five siblings.”

  
Charle gaped, “Can't imagine. I’ve been a lone child all my life. I mean, I have an older sister but I never actually saw her."

  
"Well at least you got to have your own space. If I ever have kids, I'm only having two."

  
They kept talking until the sun set. Sometime during it, James lit a cigarette. Charles had always seen smoking as an awful habit. All it did was leave clothes stinky and suck away money, yet when he saw the other man smoke he couldn’t help the dryness in his mouth, the way his brain short circuited for some seconds.

  
Later that night, when it was time for them to start going to bed, things felt more natural. His relationship with his roommate had never been bad but during the first days they had never gotten the time to actually click with eachother. Now that they had, it would definitely become harder for Cooke, he already felt his heart swelling with what were feelings he wasn’t used to dwelling on. It would be impossible for him to ignore them because this time he was living with the person he liked.

  
And James made everything so hard. He usually did grocery shopping, probably because he worked at a tiny one by the end of the street. He was one of the best cooks in the house and more often than not he would bake things for everyone. James did even the easiest things like coffee or tea for everyone and sometimes when Charles or someone else fell asleep in an inconvenient space, he’d drop a blanket on top of them. Only during his first week, Charles had fallen on top of his bed covers, to wake with what seemed to be a handmade blanket on top of himself. And during those few days he’d found Rossi, sneering, pretending to be annoyed probably, as he placed a blanket on top of a sleeping figure.

  
For some nights, they'd talk before falling asleep. Once or twice Charles had found himself looking at the other side of the bedroom to see James looking at him, a small smile forming in his face.

  
During most nights, when Charles felt scared or insecure, he’d look at Rossi. He couldn’t help but feel a bit like a creep. But he found some sort of comfort in trying to make out James sleeping form in the dark. To imagine how serene or serious his face would look. The scar on his cheek, how it would feel under his touch. These were usually the last thoughts cook had before finding himself asleep.

**Author's Note:**

> btw I did this while ignoring all of my academic responsibilities so feel free to comment and scream at me to study... I deserve it
> 
> ALSO here's this link:-)  
> https://blacklivesmatters.carrd.co/


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